


Pretty Please

by savorycheeks



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Fairy tale themed dirty talk, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Restraints, blowjob, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorycheeks/pseuds/savorycheeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wants you to say please."</p>
<p>"I'll say pretty please."</p>
<p>This is how Will says pretty please. A sort of missing scene, with slightly AU elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Please

Alana strides into the room, perfect seams and meticulous hair, a construction of authority. Hannibal faces her standing straight in the emptiness of his cell, his face betraying its usual brand of nothing.

"There's a plan to catch the Tooth Fairy."

"He does prefer to be called the Great Red Dragon, Doctor Bloom."

"I don't care what he prefers, Hannibal. I prefer that we catch him, and by extension no longer require your assistance."

"But how would I then occupy my mind? This Dragon, all the King's Men in his pursuit, is considerable entertainment. Especially without my books."

"I'll return your books, your drawings, your toilet. If you cooperate in the capture of Francis Dolarhyde, all privileges will be restored."

"And if I do not? I must tell you, Alana, you don't have a mind for torment. Your threats rumble with the cadence of a predator, but they hardly bare their teeth."

"I prefer positive reinforcement, whenever possible. Better results."

Hannibal's fingers twitch at that. He is pleased. "Tell me then, what can you offer? This Dragon is worth more than books, than the small dignity of plumbing, I think."

Steeling herself, Alana's arms cross in front of her chest. "I can offer you Will." She does not meet his eyes as she says it.

Hannibal raises an eyebrow, his smirk quite proud now. "I didn't know you had it in you, Dr. Bloom. Surely this is a violation. You would lose your esteemed position as my caretaker."

"Officially, it won't happen at all. Everyone involved has already sworn not to see a thing, and anything you may allege will be denied. Conveniently for us, you're still legally insane."

"Very underhanded." His expression shifts to guided purpose. Hannibal's eyes lock with hers, demanding and steady. "What are the particulars of this arrangement? Your offering of Will Graham."

"He has agreed to meet you in person to outline the details of the plan. In your cell, alone. No guards. You will be restrained, of course. Large men with automatic weapons will be posted at all exits, should you get any ideas. One hour. What you do with that time is between you and him."

"I could hurt him, or he could hurt me. Neither would be good for your reputation, or the lie you hope to tell."

"He volunteered. He knows the risks, and I'm not in the business of preventing martyrs." Hannibal quirks his mouth, the "anymore" implied.  She ignores him. "If Will kills you, we'll handle it."

"If dear Will would like my help, I should like him to say please."

Alana nods once and turns to leave. Hannibal listens to the steady click of her heels until they fade and he is left with little else but silence and possibilities.

\---

Hannibal is securely fastened in his strait-jacket, locked firmly in place, when Will enters. Two guards tend to his restraints.

Will, teasingly standing just within arms reach --if Hannibal were able to reach-- outlines a thin, brittle plan involving mail drops and secret service contingencies. Hannibal, as he is supposed to, expresses his doubts.

"I need you, Hannibal. Please?"

Will’s conspiratorial glance, for all that Hannibal would prefer to stifle it, sends a wave of heat through him.

Will turns to the guards. "You can go now. Come back in an hour. Don't open the door for anything. Shoot anyone who walks out before the time is up." The instructions were certainly already known, simply repeated for Hannibal's benefit. The guards nod and file out the door.

Leaving the two of them alone.

"Do you think they would actually shoot you, Will? If you walked out early on our conversation?"

Without company or glass between them, Will's expression is so naked it hits Hannibal like water on a parched throat. "Honestly? Probably not. But they would definitely shoot you."

"You wanted to make it clear that nothing I could say or do would make you leave this room before our hour expires."

Will steps closer, a finger lifting to caress a buckle of his restraints. "Not that there's much you actually can do, of course."

"Unless you release me."

"I'm not going to release you, Hannibal. I still have to fake your escape." This close, the scent of Will greets Hannibal like a long-awaited letter. A mild bouquet of sweat, soap, and adrenaline pumping beneath his skin.

Will leans in, hand gently cupping the back of his head. He pulls himself up and Hannibal down, exchanging breaths in their proximity.

Hannibal snaps at the air between them, his teeth just grazing the skin of Will's nose.

Will huffs a startled laugh and grips Hannibal's head with sudden force, crushing their mouths together in a violent kiss. His daring tongue slips into his mouth, unafraid, dancing over his teeth before wrestling with Hannibal’s own. Will tastes so sweet, like a light wine with notes of longing and bottled electricity.

Will steps back, panting, as Hannibal struggles internally to maintain composure.

"You hope to buy my cooperation with sweet kisses, Will? I admit, it's not the worst coercion I've seen, but even your beautiful mouth cannot hide the truth of a poorly constructed plan."

Will steps in again, and Hannibal wonders how much he knows of the effect his smell has on him, dizzying his senses, sending lust and possessiveness to his groin.

"It's a good plan," he says, resting his hands on Hannibal’s hips. "Jack just doesn't know it. Well, all of it."

Hannibal knew that Will had been dangling the answer, letting it bob in the water until he would bite. It neatly arranges in Hannibal's mind. "The Dragon will know where to find us. The police, the FBI will not be in attendance. Only our party of three."

"Yes," Will breathes, and runs his hands over Hannibal, drinking in the feel of him solid and immobile.

"Tell me, do you intend for me to do your dirty work, as you did with Mason? Slay the Dragon for you, as you observe from your moral tower?"

Will peers up at him, his fingers tracing the line of Hannibal's jaw. "I'm not a princess, Doctor Lecter." With his right hand, Will reaches down and grips the beginnings of Hannibal's erection through the stiff fabric of his jumpsuit, and snarls, "And there are monsters worse than dragons."

Hannibal's eyes fall closed despite himself, and what little leverage he has he uses to buck, however minutely, into Will hand. Will's forehead falls to the center of Hannibal's chest, slithering his fingers beneath the fly of the jumpsuit, and grazes, with torturous gentleness, the hardening length of Hannibal's burning.

Hannibal finds himself speaking between his catching breaths. "What talented-- hands--" Will squeezes roughly, "--you have."

"The better to kill you with, my dear." Will shoves the strap of the straightjacket aside and frees Hannibal's cock to the cold air. He looks at it, and back to Hannibal. The expression, again, is one that hits Hannibal in his chest, satisfying a hunger that slept, like a bear, until emerging for its feast.

Will, dropped to knees and gripping the base of his erection between thumb and forefinger, licks a strip of hot wetness down his length. Hannibal strains despite the futility, damning his inability to take Will by the hair and have his way.

All at once he is inside Will's hot mouth, undulations of tongue and throat absconding with his higher reasoning skills. Will looks up at him, slowly rocking his head up and down.  A small noise escapes Hannibal's throat, and Will hums in amusement.

"My, what an exquisite, ah-- mouth, you have."

Will slides himself back until only his breath tickles at Hannibal's straining, sensitive flesh. "All the better to eat you with, my dear." And he nips, cruel but harmless, at the tip of Hannibal's cock. Hannibal grunts, and chokes as Will engulfs him again, this time setting a pace that drives all else from his mind.

Will's movements grow more erratic and Hannibal gazes down to find him opening his fly and pulling his own erection free.  With his mouth and one hand on Hannibal's cock, Will reaches up and presses two fingers to-- no, into, Hannibal's lips. Hannibal opens and takes the fingers greedily, licking and biting down, eliciting small moans from Will's throat around him.

Finally, Hannibal licks Will's palm, wetting it from wrist to fingertip. His hand falls again to his own erection and Will begins to pump furiously, in time with his own mouth on Hannibal.

Hannibal keeps his eyes trained downward, retaining every moment for later perusal. He fights to keep his eyes open until the last moment when, shuddering and violent, Will tears the orgasm from him. Hannibal's semen pumps down his throat and Will, finally pulling off and letting his head fall forward, strokes himself roughly to his own climax.  

They remain motionless, for a moment, aside from the heaving of their chests. The weight of Will's head is heavy on Hannibal's hip, ragged breaths upon his spit-slick, softening length.

"Well?" Will stands and tucks himself back into his pants. Hannibal looks on appreciatively. "Have I won your cooperation?" Will does the same for Hannibal, looking up at him with impish pride, refastening the jumpsuit and straightening his clothes where they had become rumpled.

"Of course, Will. You said please."


End file.
